“With fake trees?” Dorothy almost shuddered at the thought of ugly bright-green plastic trees like the one on the porch.
“Yeah, but don’t worry. I’ve got this. I’m going to look through Dad’s old plans, and I will submit the absolute best of his ideas for the pond. We’ll win.” Kristen’s eyes slid over to the other porch and then back again. “I mean, provided we’re going to have trees to decorate with.”
Dorothy squeezed George so tight he meowed. “What do you mean?”
“Mom, I’m not naive. I heard you and Ethan skirting around some issue last night…” Kristen let her voice trail off.
“Oh, that’s nothing, like I said. Just a little problem with the trees. They probably just need some extra water or something. Ethan will fix it, just like your father always did.” Dorothy opened the front door. “Why don’t we go inside and have some cookies? You can tell me all about your lunch with the girls. How is Ida getting on at the Cozy Holly Inn, anyway?”
“Wonderfully. Julie said Ida is thriving. Did you know she started a knitting club in the living room at the inn? It’s for locals and guests. Apparently, they get a lot of knitters staying there.”
Dorothy put George down gently in the hall, and he ran off, probably to see what trouble he could get into in the kitchen. “A knitting club? I always wanted to start knitting. Maybe I’ll check it out.”
Chapter 8
Kristen settled in the living room with a mug of hot chocolate and a plate of chocolate-chip cookies to look over her father's old skating-pond plans. The cookies were her favorite of all those her mother made because she still made them with Crisco instead of butter. Her mom was busy making dinner in the kitchen. Ethan had grabbed a quick sandwich and was gathering evergreen boughs to bring to the town hall for the wreath-making contest tomorrow, which Kristen would attend. It would be her first official event as a representative of Woodward Christmas Tree Farm.
Apparently, George liked the idea of looking over plans more than bothering her mom's cooking endeavors. He proceeded to hop up onto the coffee table and bat at the curling edges of the plans Kristen had unrolled.
"Hey, don't rip it. My dad put a lot of work into these." She remembered her dad bending over the plans and measuring everything precisely. He'd said it was important for things to be the right distance apart so that they were aesthetically pleasing. Looking at the notes penciled in the margins in his unmistakable neat handwriting made her want to cry.
Instead, she took a deep breath. She couldn't let her mother see her break down. Her mom was doing well after months of grieving her father, and she didn’t want her to go backward.
Kristen was proud of the way her mother was moving forward. She’d sounded excited about the knitting club. Hopefully, she would join. It was time she got out and did things for herself. But that wouldn't be possible if she had to worry about the Christmas tree farm, so Kristen decided it was time to get started.
"I better get to work, George." She shooed the cat away from the mug of hot chocolate that he’d been sniffing. "I don't think that's good for cats."
She took out some long graph paper, her dad's old long ruler, and some pencils and markers. She sketched in the shape of the skating pond and the grounds around it. The area around the skating pond had stately oaks and maples but no pine trees. The branches of the oaks and maples were bare at this time of year, and her dad had always strung lights on them and then brought in his own evergreen trees from the Christmas tree farm to decorate. One year, he had built snowmen; another year, he had strung mistletoe between the trees.
The town set up cute little food huts that looked like log cabins, and people sold apple cider, hot chocolate, fried dough, and pretzels. Newer additions in the last few years included several firepits with chairs around them.
She’d do something similar but with a fresh spin. She wanted to show off their trees, their wreaths, their evergreen garlands. But thinking of the trees brought back the worry. Though her mother kept acting as if it was nothing, Kristen didn't think so. And with her dad gone, would Ethan know what to do? He'd only worked with their father for a couple years, and he’d been so distracted ever since his wife died. But Ethan was a good guy. He wanted the farm to succeed, so she would have to believe that he could figure it out.
Okay, focus on the skating pond. Thumbing through the plans, she could visualize each of the designs her father had done. Some years, he'd gone with tons of lights, other years a vast array of colors. One year, he had crammed as many trees as he could into the area.
One thing he’d never done, though, was to go with one color. Monochromatic designs were popular in the city where she’d lived.
Movement outside the window caught her eye, and she looked out to see Mason getting into his car across the street. Glancing at her watch, she could see it was just suppertime. Was he heading out to party for the night instead of staying and working on the pond design all night like she planned to do? Good. All the better the chance for her to come up with the winning design.
Chapter 9
Mason could see why his father had chosen to open Tinseltown in Pinecone Falls. The town was like a Christmas card. Quaint shops, all decorated with lights and garland, stood in a row, their awnings catching the light snow that had started to fall.
Window boxes were stuffed full of evergreen branches and holly, the dusting of snow highlighting the vibrant red berries. Old-fashioned street lights highlighted the glittery flakes as they drifted down. It had a cozy, warm feel like a mug of hot cocoa by the fire. The small-town vibe was definitely different from the city, and Mason was surprised to discover he actually liked it.
Mason could hear the pride and excitement in his father’s voice as he led him around the shop, showing him the inventory, the cash register area, and the storage in back.
He didn’t want to burst his father’s bubble, but the way he had it organized was a mess. If Mason’s sales job had taught him anything, it was how to set up a sales space to get the most out of it.
“Dad, I think we can do better with the way this is set up,” he ventured.
“Huh?” His father looked around the store. Clearly, he had no clue that there might be a better way.
“Let me show you what I mean.” Mason pointed to the rows of shelving. “See how this looks more like a storage area than a shop? How about you move some of these tall racks out and get some more interesting displays? Maybe even some antique furniture like hutches or tables where you can show practical uses for the items. You could set up some of these Santa mugs and plates on a table, maybe add some of these reindeer candles too.”
His father stroked his chin. “I guess that might look nice.”
“And on the racks, you want to stock your best sellers at eye level. And put some of the packages facing out so customers can see what is inside.”
